Always on Wednesday

This story sent to me by Rubbersheep, thank you for sending it in.
If you are the author of this story, please let me know

"Rubber doesn't grow on trees." She snapped the thin black elastic sheath against her chest.

“Maybe it did once, but now it's chemical magic. Smells like a petrol station in the summer, but tastes like hot penis and pussy.”

He didn't say anything. He was too occupied watching her dress.

"But wearing rubber is like a dildo. As soon as I've got it on, I need you to get it in." She looked at him as she pushed more talcum inside the top before pulling the suit over her shoulders.

“I must lose two pounds every time. And even now it looks like I lost three.”

He didn't say anything. He was busy fingering into the gloves and shuffling himself into the boots, noting the bulge out from the rubber. When he had finished, she was standing before the mirror all sleek and shining, holding the black riding boots. She stroked a hand over the shiny surface.

“Got to say it. I've got a great figure still. The suit says so.”

He pushed the cowl up over her hair.

“Well I'll say so too." He rubbed his gloved hands in a slow caress down her body.

“A great figure. Just made for rump and pump.”

"That's what you call it now? This morning, when you reminded me it was Wednesday, it was 'rubber-booted fuck."

He corrected her.

“That's what you said in your note. Last week you couldn't accept clients as you had the curse, and the previous two weeks the excuse was your father staying, although I suspect the man you were entertaining was really another stud.”

“Bastard! You're the only one I let fuck me in rubber. And as soon as I get these damned boots on, your Mistress will show you she's been gagging for hot cock for three weeks.”

"Oooh, you're tight.”

"That's it, that's the spot... mmmm.

“Like that? Like that?"

"Oh yes. Wonderful. Don 't stop.

"I must move... the suit's creased up round my elbow."

"Don 't come out. Let me move back up the bed...”

"Another position?”

"No, not yet. I like this one. Just let me put this under me. That's better. Now put it in me. Yes, in. Yes, yes. Ooh yes.”

Before they began she always reminded him to lock the door. He always did, but he always reassured her by clumping in his boots to the door and fiddling with the key. It was also the chance to display his erection as he pulled it out from the suit.

He was very proud of his erection. Wearing rubber and high boots made him feel extra-masculine and added at least another two inches. She always laughed when he told her that; asked what his wife thought of it as what he had got was big enough for her without any extra in the length.

"Let's try... you ride me...”

"Oh, darling, not another position, not this time. I can feel you ... it's right up there. You're so hard. You're so hard today."

"Shall I then?"

"While I'm throbbing. Do it while I'm throbbing. I- I can feel it coming.

"Bend your boots - your knees then.”

"Do-it-do-it-do-it. Oooh Yes! YES. I'm contracting. Oh God that's so wonderful. Again. Oh yes, that was a hot, strong one.”

Sometimes, when he didn't have to go back to the store to lock up, they'd cover the rubber with macs and go for a drive. There was a quiet place in the woods where they could park, and the seat folded down. Or they could wander into the ferns, and she would fellate him while he sniffed the delicious rubber smell from her cowl. If she were in a playful mood after arousing him she would make him discharge his semen into his boots, or hers, and laugh about how he would clean them afterwards. And she would tell him how much she loved him. And he would respond by saying he loved her even though she was a randy whore. And she would always say that the best thing about him, apart from the exercises with the 15cms, was his endearing compliments.

"Push, darling, push your boots between my boots and push darling.”

"I’ll go in slowly."

"No, just fuck me hard, I'm coming again. Finish me. Then I'll let you go home. Oh darling!"

It was grey dusk when he pulled the car into the drive. The CD had been playing Turandot, and he was still humming 'none shall sleep' as he turned the key in the lock.

She called from the kitchen and, after hanging up his jacket, he went in to see what was for supper. He kissed her gently on the neck and agreed it had been a good day. She carried on stirring.

“I suppose you went to see her?"

He nodded. Yes, he had been to see her. He always went on Wednesday afternoon. It was the only time he could get away from the store; his one afternoon off.

"And I suppose she wore the rubber suit and the boots?"

He agreed. She had worn the rubber suit, the boots and the gloves, and he had worn a suit and boots and gloves.

"And was it as good as always?"

"Better, if anything.”

"She fucked out all the tension then?" Yes, she had fucked out all the tension. She ladled out the vegetables onto the plates.

“You're very fortunate having found yourself a rubber Mistress. What's her name? You've never mentioned her name.”

He thought about. They had never got round to names, far too busy getting sexed up

"She's a good screw then?"

"The best."

She put the steaming plate in front of him and opened a bottle of beer.

“You'll be hungry and thirsty after two hours in all that rubber." She smiled.

“And by the way, it's your turn to clean all the stuff from the bedroom.”

 

 

17.03.06